Demons
by Minquette
Summary: Hawke's pride is wounded when Anders calls her a little girl for threatening him the first time they meet. She wants to soothe her pride, perhaps by spilling a bit of his blood, but Anders is no pushover when threatened. A kmeme fill.


**Demons**

_Little __girl_, Hawke's pride snarled from the corner of her mind, wounded and angry. Hawke had killed an ogre, skewered giant spiders, sheared rival mercenaries in half, and sent abominations back to the Fade. The two-handed claymore strapped to her back took power to swing and she was far from petite. Her memories consisted of running from forces larger than her until her first bloodening, when she'd picked up a sword and over the years learnt how to strike fear into the hearts of those who would dare chase her family from whatever happiness they could make.

_Little girl_. She had killed people for such slights. Damn that mage, damn those maps, and damn Varric's promise of riches in the Deep Roads!

The afternoon found her pacing restlessly, first in Gamlen's house before she was shooed away by her mother for being a moody distraction, then around Lowtown. She desperately wished she could get thoroughly drunk and pick a fight just to get this anger out of her system but, rough as Hawke could be, she was not stupid enough to get drunk before possibly going up against Templars.

Her wanderings finally took her to one of the many entrances to Darktown; her mind evidently wanted to settle the score. If she couldn't get drunk and pick a fight then she would confront the Maker-forsaken mage. A hint of fear in his face at a dagger across his throat, an apology (even if it was insincere), anything to give her the upper hand and soothe her growling pride.

The clinic had few patients, all sleeping or being attended to by family. Hawke stalked through the area, eyes firmly on where the mage was ducking behind a screen to what she assumed was his private area. Hawke had spent enough time sharing her personal space that the concept of privacy was almost totally alien to her so it was with no qualms that she invaded his living area.

"Mage!" she called pressing the dagger against his throat when he turned. "Would you like a little girl to slit your throat?"

Hawke was not rewarded with the look of fear she so wanted. Instead, she found herself knocked back several feet by some unseen force of magic. Her sister used that trick but Hawke had rarely been on the receiving end of it from anyone. She stumbled back, a look of surprise painted across her features.

"I told you not to threaten me." A pause. "Little girl."

Hawke saw red, which was unfortunate as it meant she saw too late the green sigil beginning to glow below the mage as she rushed towards him. Magic (how she hated being subjected to it!) curled about her limbs, paralysing her muscles and holding her suspended in mid-step. The feeling of utter helplessness and loss of control did not help her mood.

The mage gripped her chin, his touch almost a caress, with fingers surprisingly calloused for one who presumably spent his time grasping a staff more so than a sword or plough. He leant close to her face and for a brief second Hawke thought he was going to kiss her. It worried her more that there was a flutter in her stomach at the prospect.

He did not, though, and she ignored the tiny hint of disappointment in her heart.

"If you were a mage, a pride demon would have devoured you by now," he intoned gravely.

Firelight played across the skin of one side of his face, throwing the other side into dark, flickering shadows and she felt herself start to drown in the intensity of his gaze. The smell of oiled feathers, leather, and elfroot assailed her senses and she knew she would now always associate the smell of those earthy leaves with this moment.

A small smirk tugged at his lips before he whispered, "Or perhaps a desire demon."

The soft murmurs of the clinic that had started to fade away snapped back as she realised some traitorous part of her had turned the fury in her eyes to something just a small step away - passion. Her eyes narrowed, her tongue loosened, the paralysis of her muscles started to drain away but before she was able to make a move he took advantage of her pliant state and shoved her hard against a pillar, mouth devouring hers before she could protest.

Protest was far from her mind though as she gripped his arms tightly, kissing him back when she regained control of her muscles. He tasted of a hint of summer wine, surprising since even Hawke refused to drink when she knew she was going into a fight. His body pressed against hers and although she knew mages were usually small and weak, the metal clasps of his tunic and the bulk of cloth, feathers and leather made him feel large and hard against her. It incited desire in her and she kissed him hungrily, running her hands up to twist her fingers in his tied-back hair.

People had stood up to her, yes, but that was usually the last thing they did. That here was someone who she could not kill - damn Varric and his promises! - and who did not cower at her threats or simply acquiesce to her will infuriated her to no end. Yet here she was kissing him as if her very soul depended on it.

Without warning she pushed him back and delivered a vicious knee to his groin, satisfied when he yelped and crumpled.

"Do not presume to know my desires, mage," she growled, looking down at him, before she turned on her heel and left.

"See you tonight, Hawke," he called after her, wheezing slightly, and Hawke had to muster all her willpower not to rise to the bait as she stormed out of the clinic.

She didn't even realise that he had used her name, which she never gave him, until she was home.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** A kmeme fill I couldn't resist after walking into Anders' clinic for the first time on my latest playthrough and triggering this line because of the prompt. Mmm, Anders, I didn't know you could sound so domineering…

_Original Prompt:_ "Don't threaten me, little girl"

Am I the only one who thought Anders was incredibly hot when he said that?

My F!Hawke would have replied something among the lines of: "Try and stop me." Sadly my imagination sort of ends there and I can't find the way for them to start making out right there, or just have rough sex against the wall.

What say you, anons? One-line fills, microfills and even longfills welcome. Let your imagination run wild!


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